UCSS    LIBRARY 


MEMORY'S  TRIBUTE 


TO 


'The  Life,  Character  and  Work 

OF    THE 

REV.    THOS.    H.    STOCKTON. 

Spoken  in  the  First  Methodist  Church,  Pittsburgh,  Sabbath,  October  25,  1868 


ALEXANDER   CLARK,  PASTOR, 

FORMERLY  ASSOCIATE  PASTOR  WITH    THE  DECEASED,   IN  PHILADELPHIA. 


NEW   YORK: 
SAMUEL   R.  WELLS,  No.  389   BROADWAY. 

A.   H.   BASSETT, 

METHODIST  BOOK  CONCERN,  SPRINGFIELD,  OHIO. 
1869. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by 
SAMUEL   R.  WELLS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States 
for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


Pittsburgh,  October  26, 1S68. 
Alexander  Clark  ; 

Dear  Brother,— At  the  regular  Weekly  Meeting  of  the  Pastors  and 
other  Preachers  of  the  Methodist  Church  of  this  city  and  vicinity,  this 
day,  it  was  unanimously  resolved,  that  you  be  requested  to  furnish  for 
publication,  in  permanent  form,  your  Sermon  in  tribute  to  the  Life,  Char- 
acter and  Work  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  II.  Stockton,  D.  D.,  late  Pastor  of  the 
Church  of  the  New  Testament,  Philadelphia,  and  a  member  of  the  Pitts- 
burgh Conference  of  the  Methodist  Church. 

This  request  is  made  in  the  belief  that  such  publication  is  called  for  by 
our  affection  for  the  deceased,  and  by  his  faithful  relation  to  the  cause  of 
Eeformatwy  Christianity  as  recognized  by  our  churches. 
Very  truly, 

Jas.  B.  Lucas,  President. 
Wm.  Evans,  Secretary,  pro  tern. 


Pittsburgh,  October  20, 1868. 
Bro.  Alexander  Clark  : 

Dear  Sir, — At  a  Special  Meeting  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  the  First 
Methodist  Church,  Pittsburgh,  Monday  Evening,  October  26, 1868,  it  was 
unanimously  resolved  that  you  be  requested  to  furnish  for  publication,  in 
neat  and  convenient  style  for  preservation  and  future  reference,  your  dis- 
course commemorative  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  H.  Stockton  (deceased),  as  deliv- 
ered in  our  church  yesterday  afternoon. 

Yours,  sincerely, 

Jas.  I.  Bennett,  President. 
Wm.  Rinehart,  Secretary. 


To  my  Brethren,  the  Members  of  the  Pittsburgh  Methodist  Preacliers'1 
Meeting,  and  the  Trustees  of  the  First  Methodist  Church,  Respectively 
and  Respectfully.— 

Appreciating  your  courteous  request,  I  submit  my  words,  (as  spoken 
in  our  church  on  Sabbath  last),  to  the  friendly  people  at  large,  hoping  that 
their  further  publication  may,  in  some  humble  degree,  lend  to  perpetuate 
the  memory  of  him  whom  we  all  loved  so  well. 

Yours  in  Christ, 

Alex.  Clark. 
Parsonage,  October  27, 1868. 


TO 

WILLIAM    STILES,  M.  D., 

OF  PHILADELPHIA, 
THE     SKILLFUL,    DEVOTED     AND     CHRISTIAN 


AND 
BOSOM-FRIEND    OF    THE    DECEASED; 

A.VD  TO 

JAY    COOKE,   ESQ., 

HIS      APPRECIATIVE      AND      SYMPATHETIC 


This   Little   Memorial 

IS     AFFECTIONATELY     DEDICATED 

BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


MEMORY'S    TRIBUTE. 


THE  outline  of  an  illustrious  personage  may  be  easily 
drawn.  There  are  a  few  figures  to  arrange,  as  data 
of  birth,  childhood,  schooldays,  maturity  and  death  ;  and 
a  few  incidents  to  be  grouped  as  characteristic,  unique, 
and  expressive  of  distinct  individuality.  The  picture  is  to 
take  form,  feature,  and  color,  as  a  prepared  plate  takes  the 
image  of  an  object  before  the  camera.  The  life-likeness 
of  a  man  of  genius  and  grace,  in  its  finer  lines  and  mean- 
ings, must  be  the  result  of  direct  impress  on  the  public  eye 
and  heart,  not  for  a  sunny  moment,  but  for  rounded  and 
searching  years.  But  a  beautiful  character  is  not  dupli- 
cated or  multiplied  in  its  expressions  to  the  world,  as  a 
print  or  photograph  ;  it  is  peculiar  to  every  contemplator, 
according  to  his  standpoint  of  observation  and  degree  of 
culture. 

The  leading  facts  in  the  history  of  Thomas  Hewlings 
Stockton  are  soon  told.  He  was  born  in  Mount  Holly, 
Burlington  County,  N.  J.,  June  4,  1808,  the  first  of  six 
children.  His  father,  William  S.  Stockton, .was  an  intelli- 

(7) 


8  Memory's    Tribute. 

gent  and  liberal- spirited  layman  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  afterward  a  prominent  reformer  5n  the  organization 
of  the  Methodist  Protestant  Church,  and  until  his  dying 
day  (November  20,  1860)  an  active  and  able  advocate  of 
the  principles  of  lay  representation,  and  of  the  right  of  pri- 
vate judgment  in  the  interpretation  of  God's  words  to  the 
world.  The  Bible  and  manhood  were  magnified  in  his 
faith,  and  by  his  words,  his  work,  and  his  worship,  until 
creed  and  caste  were  lost  in  the  light  of  revelation  —  until 
equal  brotherhood  among  all  men,  and  the  privilege  of 
personal  acknowledgment  of  the  Lord  Christ  became  the 
central  themes  of  his  great  heart. 

The  germs  of  such  truth,  gathered  from  the  inspired 
pages,  and  watered  by  early  baptisms,  were  planted  in  the 
young  soul  of  his  son,  to  develop,  in  due  time  and  order, 
into  sweet  and  abundant  fruition ;  and  by  him,  again,  as 
seeds  by  a  tree  when  it  falls,  to  be  scattered  broadcast  by 
his  death,  as  seed-thoughts  which  shall  s-pring  up  in  bloom- 
ing promises  among  all  denominations  of  Christian  people ; 
and,  ultimately,  across  the  broad  world,  to  mature  in  thou- 
sand-fold harvests  of  good  to  men  and  glory  to  God. 

The  childhood  years  of  this  first-born  son  were  spent  in 
a  peaceful  and  quiet  home,  amidst  tenderest  affections,  care- 
fullest  training,  and  the  most  refined  social  and  Christian 
society.  As  he  rose  toward  manhood,  spare  and  tall  and 
pale,  he  passed  as  much  time  as  his  frail  physical  frame 
would  admit,  in  the  best  private  schools  and  academies. 


Memory's   Tribute.  9 

He  learned  almost  by  intuition ;  he  was  scholarly  by 
nature ;  and  through  all  his  life  he  was  an  observing, 
a  recording,  and  an  applying  student.  He  outgrew  books, 
and  roamed  with  delight  in  the  regions  above  and  beyond 
them.  To  him  the  Bible  was  of  all  books  the  first,  the 
last,  the  best  —  the  interpreter  of  all  things  else,  and  the 
exhaustless  theme  of  his  mind  and  heart.  He  writes,  in 
his  "  Autobiographic  Notes,"  of  his  impressions  when  a 
slender  lad  of  sixteen  years ;  and  this  is  his  record  :  "  I 
found  the  Bible  full  of  both  nature  and  society,  earthly 
and  heavenly,  in  all  forms  and  changes,  historic  and  pro- 
phetic. It  was  the  opening  not  only  of  the  world,  but  of 
the  universe  ;  with  God,  himself  unseen,  shining  on  it  all 
with  a  light  subtler  than  that  of  the  sun,  and  touching  my 
spirit  with  its  rays  wherever  I  turned.  Skies,  and  seas, 
mountains  and  plains,  lakes  and  torrents,  cedars,  palms 
and  roses ;  lions  and  conies ;  eagles  and  turtle-doves ; 
angels  and  men  ;  kings,  courts  and  kingdoms ;  armies  and 
caravans ;  Eden's  garden  and  the  city  of  the  New  Jerusa- 
lem ;  Calvary's  Cross  and  Creation's  Throne  —  these  and 
an  almost  infinite  series  of  things  thus  became  familiar  to 
me,  with  a  spiritual  beauty  and  holy  solemnity  cast  over 
them  all." 

At  the  age  of  eighteen  he  lost  his  beloved  mother,  and 
calls  it  the  most  memorable  event  of  his  life.  I  have  often 
heard  him  refer,  with  tearful  emotion,  to  the  sad  hour  and 
place  of  her  departure.  In  his  later  years,  when  his  own 


10  Memory's    Tribute. 

head  was  silvered  over,  and  his  step  tottering  and  slow,  he 
occasionally  went  alone  to  the  old  house  on  Front  street, 
and  asked  the  privilege  of  the  stranger-occupants  of  spend- 
ing an  hour  in  the  quiet  upper  room  where  last  he  saw  the 
light  of  her  loving  eyes,  and  heard  the  low,  sweet  hallelu- 
jahs from  her  dying  lips.  Soon  after  his  mother's  death  he 
was  converted  to  God,  no  doubt  in  answer  to  parental 
prayers,  and  was  admitted  to  membership  in  St.  George's 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  in  Philadelphia. 

He  had  now  attained  an  age  when  he  felt  the  responsi- 
bilities of  earning  a  livelihood  for  himself,  and  tried  various 
occupations,  one  of  which  he  followed  for  a  year  and  a 
half  with  great  interest  and  industry  —  that  of  a  composi- 
tor in  a  printing-office.  A  physical  infirmity  prevented 
continuance  at  printing,  and  he  abandoned  it  reluctantly, 
and  became  a  student  of  medicine,  attending  lectures  for 
a  considerable  time  at  Jefferson  College.  But  this  profes- 
sion never  excited  his  sympathies  nor  engaged  his  powers. 

In  1828,  he  was  married  to  Anna  Roe  McCurdy,  who 
was  his  appreciative  and  devoted  companion  until  death, 
removed  her  from  his  home,  in  the  early  autumn  of  1865, 
an  exultant  Christian,  matured  for  the  kingdom. 

One  Sabbath  afternoon  in  May,  1829,  Thomas  H.  Stock- 
ton preached  his  first  sermon  in  a  rural  district  near  Phila- 
delphia. Soon  after  he  delivered  several  discourses  in  near 
succession  on  the  eastern  shore  of  Maryland,  all  of  which 
were  remarkably  effectual  in  their  results. 


Memory's    Tribute,  1 1 

This  was  about  the  time  of  the  organization  of  the 
Methodist  Protestant  Church,  of  which  his  father  was 
already  an  acting  member,  and  whose  distinctive  princi- 
ples he  had  promulgated  for  years  in  a  periodical  entitled 
The.  Wesley  an  Repository,  of  which  he  was  the  founder 
and  editor.  As  the  economy  of  the  new  organization  so 
well  accorded  with  the  views  of  the  young  preacher,  he  at 
once  identified  himself  with  the  movement,  and  until  his 
death  maintained  his  ecclesiastical  connection  with  this  de- 
nomination. 

The  President  of  the  Maryland  Annual  Conference  — 
the  Rev.  Nicholas  Snethen  —  while  on  a  visit,  that  year, 
to  the  Philadelphia  reformers,  chanced  to  hear  young  Stock- 
ton preach,  and  immediately  engaged  him  to  take  charge 
of  a  circuit  on  the  "Eastern  Shore."  Concerning  this 
sudden  and  unexpected  transition  to  the  regular  itinerant 
ranks,  he  says  :  "  What  was  my  preparation  ?  None  at 
all,  in  the  ordinary  professional  sense.  But,  by  nature, 
providence  and  grace  ;  by  home,  school  and  church  ;  by 
the  Bible  and  the  general  range  of  English  literature,  so 
far  as  it  came  within  my  reach,  and  proved  attractive,  I 
had  been  made  observant,  thoughtful,  reverent,  and  prayer- 
ful—  had  been  awakened  to  a  consciousness  of  at  least  seem- 
ing adaptation,  with  some  impression  of  duty,  some  impulse 
of  desire,  and  some  effort  in  self-culture.  Under  the  min- 
istry of  such  men  as  Mervin,  Summerfield,  Bascom,  Maf- 
fit,  Cookman,  and  others,  it  was  natural  for  me  to  look  and- 


12  Memory's    Tribute. 

listen  intently,  not  only  with  sensibility,  but  also  syntheti- 
cally and  analytically,  assuring  myself  pretty  well  of  the 
plan  and  process  of  discussion,  and  deriving  from  the  ser- 
vice and  exercise  more  advantage,  perhaps,  than  I  then 
supposed.  This,  I  believe,  was  all,  or  nearly  all.  Thus 
I  became  a  preacher." 

His  circuit  was  a  large  one,  geographically,  sweeping 
through  the  counties  of  Talbot,  Caroline,  ^Queen  Anne 
and  Kent,  and  requiring  a  ride  of  some  two  hundred  miles 
in  filling  one  round  of  appointments.  He  preached,  fre- 
quently, three  times  on  the  Sabbath,  besides  leading  a  class 
or  two,  occupying  school-houses,  court-houses  and  private 
dwellings,  and,  in  summer-time,  the  leafy-frescoed  temples 
of  the  forest. 

In  1830,  he  was  stationed  in  Baltimore,  and  the  same  year 
was  elected  editor  of  the  Church  paper,  but  declined,  rec- 
ommending his  personal  friend,  Dr.  Gamaliel  Bailey,  who 
was  chosen,  and  who  thus  began  his  eventful  editorial 
career.  Dr.  Bailey  was  afterward  the  proprietor  of  the 
National  Era,  a  weekly  paper  of  great  talent  and  influence, 
published  in  Washington  City.  This  journal  had  the  honor 
of  first  printing  Mrs.  Stowe's  great  story,  "  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  in  serial  form,  a  work  which  has  done  more  to 
equalize  human  rights  and  free  the  nation,  than  any  Theol- 
ogy ever  written. 

In  1831,  Mr.  Stockton  was  a  general  evangelist,  or  mis- 
sionary at  large,  preaching  to  immense  congregations  in 


Memory's   Tribute.  13 

various  parts  of  the  country,  and  proclaiming  the  liberties 
and  honors  of  Christ's  Gospel  to  all  men,  regardless  of 
class,  condition,  or  color. 

During  this  year,  he  conceived  the  ideal  of  his  two  chief 
poems,  "  Man  "  and  "  Snow,"  and  began  their  composition. 

In  1832,  he  was  again  placed  in  charge  of  the  circuit 
on  the  "  Eastern  Shore  ;"  and  the  year  following,  stationed 
in  Georgetown,  in  the  District  of  Columbia,  and  elected 
Chaplain  to  Congress.  In  1834,  he  was  re-elected  Chap- 
lain, and  in  1835  appointed  traveling  agent  for  the  Meth- 
odist Protestant  Book  Concern  in  Baltimore,  and  visited 
the  West  in  behalf  of  that  enterprise.  At  the  assembling 
of  Congress,  he  was  again  elected  Chaplain.  The  next 
year  he  was  stationed  in  Baltimore.  In  1837,  he  compiled 
a  hymn-book  for  the  denomination,  in  accordance  with  a 
commission  by  the  General  Conference.  This  was  the  first 
Methodist  hyrnn-book  to  accredit  hymns  to  their  respective 
authors. 

In  1838,  he  removed  to  Philadelphia,  and  resided  there 
for  the  next  nine  years,  during  which  time  he  organized 
the  First  Methodist  Protestant  Church  in  that  city,  and 
caused  to  be  erected  the  beautiful  church  edifice  which 
stands  at  the  corner  of  Eleventh  and  Wood  streets,  and  in 
which  he  ministered  much  of  the  time  as  the  honored  pas- 
tor until  his  death;  and  where,  on  Wednesday,  Oct.  14, 
1868,  a  large  and  loving  multitude  passed  sorrowing  beside 
his  open  coffin,  to  take  the  last  fond  glance  at  his  familiar  face. 


14  Memory's    Tribute. 

From  1847  until  1850,  he  resided  in  Cincinnati,  in 
charge  of  the  Sixth  Street  Methodist  Protestant  Church, 
and  organized  the  "  Society  of  Brotherly  Love."  He 
resigned  this  charge  to  operate  on  a  broader  basis  in  the 
.work  of  Church  union,  taking  -the  Bible  as  the  only  rule 
of  life  and  bond  of  fellowship.  While  in  Cincinnati,  he 
was  unanimously  elected  President  of  Miami  University, 
but  declined  the  position,  believing  that  he  could  do  more 
good  by  preaching  the  Gospel  from  a  higher  than  any  lite- 
rary or  sectarian  center,  and  by  issuing  the  Bible  in  cheap 
periodical  form  to  the  common  people.  His  plan  has  since 
been  adopted  by  an  eminent  London  publishing-house — 
the  Bagsters  —  and  the  whole  of  the  Scriptures  have  been 
published  in  separate  volumes,  of  convenient  size  for  the 
vest-pocket  of  the  workman  or  traveler. 

From  1850  until  1856,  he  resided  in  Baltimore,  and 
was  employed  as  pastor,  for  most  of  that  time,  of  St. 
John's  Methodist  Protestant  Church,  and,  also,  in  con- 
junction, of  an  Associate  Reformed  Presbyterian  Church, 
his  colleague  being,  in  the  former  charge,  the  Rev.  Augus- 
tus Webster,  D.D.,  an  intimate  and  confiding  friend  through 
many  years. 

From  1856  until  1868,  Brother  Stockton's  home  was  in 
Philadelphia,  where  he  occupied  his  time  in  various  literary 
labors,  and,  as  superintending  pastor  of  the  Church  of  the 
New  Testament,  worshiping,  for  a  time,  in  a  hall,  and,  at 
length,  in  the  church  at  Eleventh  and  Wood  streets. 


Memory's   Tribute.  15 

This  organization  grew  out  of  Methodist  Protestant  ele- 
ments, and  adopted  the  Bible  Union  plan  of  its  pastor,  and 
was  recognized  by  all  surrounding  sects  as  a  united,  liberal, 
and  harmonious  brotherhood.  Its  members  were  affection- 
ately attached  to  Brother  Stockton,  and  clung  to  him,  like 
children  to  a  father,  till  the  last,  and  have  maintained  their 
position  among  the  churches  as  an  efficient  agency  for  sav- 
ing men.  Among  other  faithful  workers  in  this  apparently 
isolated,  but  really  Christ-central  band,  might  be  named 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  F.  Gordon,  Dr.  Stiles,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Israel  H.  Walter,  the  Bates  and  Bishop  families,  and 
Thomas  H.  Stockton,  Jr.,  the  elder  son  of  the  pastor. 

In  1862,  Brother  Stockton  was  again  elected  Chaplain  to 
Congress,  and,  during  this  year,  issued  his  more  elaborate 
book  of  poems,  which  won  the  highest  encomiums  from  the 
literary  and  religious  Reviews.  Much  of  his  time,  during 
the  last  few  years  of  his  life,  was  devoted  to  the  subject  of 
the  mediation  of  Christ  —  the  separateness  of  the  Son  of 
God  ;  and  the  results  of  his  meditations  are  embodied  in 
manuscripts  which  will  probably  be  published  as  a  sequel  to 
his  work  entitled,  "The  Peerless  Magnificence  of  the  Word 
of  God,"  which  is  now  in  press. 

The  principal  publications  from  his  pen,  in  addition  to 
"  The  Christian  World,"  "  The  Book  and  Journal,"  and 
"  The  Bible  Times "  (all  of  which  were  periodicals  devoted 
to  primitive  and  Scriptural  Christianity),  are  "  The  Pastor's 
Tribute,"  a  little  volume  in  verse  (1843)5  "Floating 


16  Memory's    Tribute. 

Flowers  from  a  Hidden  Brook,"  poems  (1844);  "Some" 
thing  New,"  verse  (1844);  "  The  Bible  Alliance  "  (^50)  ; 
"Sermons  for  the  People"  (1854);  "Stand  Up  for 
Jesus,"  and  "The  Blessing,"  small  volumes,  illustrated,  for 
the  young  (1858);  and  his  "  Poems,  with  Autobiographic 
and  other  Notes  "  (1862). 

These  are  some  of  the  most  prominent  incidents  and 
gatherings  of  his  busy  and  consecrated  life.  Many  interest- 
ing particulars  intervene  which  might  be  related  with  pleas- 
ure and  with  profit  to  all ;  but  in  a  single  discourse,  it  is 
impossible  to  do  more  than  sketch,  crayon-like  and  in  crude 
outline,  the  forms  in  the  foreground  of  such  a  picturesque 
character  as  his. 

In  reviewing  the  history  of  this  gifted  and  saintly  man, 
the  words  of  our  Lord,  spoken  of  John  the  Baptist,  seem 
ritting  as  a  text :  "  He  was  a  burning  and  a  shining  light : 
and  ye  were  willing  for  a  season  to  walk  in  his  light." 

These  words  fell  from  lips  that  were  too  pure  to  utter  a 
mere  flattering  compliment.  The  forerunner  of  Christ  was 
greater  than  any  patriarch,  priest,  or  philosopher.  He  was 
preeminently  the  greatest  among  men.  But,  great  and 
grand  as  he  was,  he  was  but  the  herald  of  a  kingdom  in 
which  the  least  should  be  greater  than  he.  It  is  a  greater 
thing  to  be  a  lowly  Christian,  to-day,  than  to  have  been  the 
last  and  the  greatest  of  the  Old  Testament  prophets,  crying 
in  the  wilderness :  "  Prepare  ye  the  way  of  the  Lord." 
The  honors  and  rewards  of  the  Gospel  dispensation  are  in- 


Memory's    Tribute.  17 

finitely  sublimer  than  those  of  the  old  Hebrew  covenant. 
The  junior  Elijah — the  predicted  and  inspired  reformer  — 
the  bugle-toned  messenger,  simple  in  mien,  and  poor,  and 
strange — the  last  of  Israel's  race  to  declare  the  coming 
Christ — was  a  man  "  of  like  passions  with  ourselves ;  "  but 
his  lifted  finger  pointed  out  the  visible  Lamb  of  God  upon 
the  earth  and  among  the  people  ;  and  of  him  the  immacu- 
late Jesus  said,  approving  the  uncreeded  preacher  and  his 
mission  :  "  He  was  a  burning  and  a  shining  light." 

A  turning  light. 

John  the  Baptist  was  aflame  in  the  service  of  God.  His  ar- 
dor was  vivid,  livid,  and  real.  His  was  a  zeal  that  burned  ; 
and  his  own  inherent  and  consecrated  impulses  fed  the 
flame  of  his  soul,  as  oil  the  lamp.  His  devotion  was  all 
aglow  with  the  consuming  fire  of  his  love.  His  religion 
was  no  smouldering  lukewarmth ;  it  was  the  intense  glow 
of  a  well -fueled  furnace  at  "white  heat!  "  And  it  circled 
out  in  waves  of  melting  power  through  all  the  moral  atmos- 
phere, infusing  itself  into  the  frozen  ritualisms  of  men  in 
beams  of  arrowy  fire,  until  the  dark  wilderness  ignited,  and 
lighted  up  in  the  sweeping  blaze  ! 

And  a  shining  light. 

Anthracite  coal  will  burn  j  but  it  makes  no  flame.  Oar 
bituminous  coal  burns,  and  blazes,  and  makes  a  light.  In  a 
candle,  or  lamp,  or  jet  of  gas,  there  is  a  chemical  substance 
that,  when  on  fire,  makes  illumination.  There  is  burning 
and  there  is  light.  Some  souls  only  smoke  and  consume, 

2 


18  Memory's    I^ribute. 

but  do  not  shine.  Passion  smoulders  a  soul  into  ashes.  Its 
fire  gives  no  light — nothing  but  a  dim  blue  gloaming  and 
flickering  in  the  darkness.  John  the  Baptist  passed  through 
the  wilderness,  and  came  out  on  the  home-side  toward 
heaven,  kindled  by  the  eternal  Source  of  Light,  high  and 
fair  as  the  morning  star  that  preludes  the  rising  sun.  His 
was  heavenly  light,  clear,  and  free,  and  broad.  It  flamed 
from  a  center  so  majestic  that  no  earthly  powers  could 
extinguish  it.  It  shone  across  the  summits  of  profoundest 
philosophies  as  sunrise  over  the  Jordan  hills.  The  promises 
and  preaching  of  him  whose  only  surplice  was  camel's  hair, 
and  whose  only  hire  were  locusts  and  wild  honey — the  in- 
structions of  him  whose  early  and  only  cry  was :  "  Behold 
the  Lamb  of  God  !  " — his  fervor,  his  energy,  his  enthusi- 
asm— his  honesty  and  heroism  in  rebuking  the  king  for  the 
sake  of  the  subject  —  his  martyrdom  for  the  new  Gospel's 
cause — all  warrant  the  highest  tribute  that  ever  mortal  man 
received :  "A  burning  and  a  shining  light." 

Yet,  burning  and  bright  as  it  was,  it  went  out.  Its  fuel 
failed.  Its  heat  abated.  Its  illumination  vanished.  But 
every  day  the  morning  star  pales  and  retreats  before  the 
banners  and  spears  of  the  conquering  sun  ! 

And  now  we  have  fair  and  certain  faith  to  believe  that 
the  least  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  —  in  the  Gospel  era  of 
the  risen  Christ — is  greater  than  the  mightiest  man  of  the 
Hebrew  economy  —  greater  than  Moses  at  the  Red  Sea, 
greater  than  Joshua  in  command  of  the  sun,  greater  than 


Memory's    Tribute.  19 

David  facing  Goliath,  greater  than  Daniel  in  Babylon  or  in 
the  lion's  den.  Then  surely  the  language  of  the  text  will 
apply  with  double  significance  to  every  one  of  the  burning 
and  shining  lights  in  the  Church  of  the  New  Testament  — 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  which  John  so  gloriously  announced. 
And  when  we  select  such  a  preeminently  endowed  minis- 
ter of  the  cross  as  Thomas  H.  Stockton,  and  say  of  him, 
"  He  was  a  burning  and  a  shining  light,"  we  honor  the  ser- 
vant for  the  Master's  sake,  and  in  the  Master's  words. 

Our  departed  brother  burned  with  divine  love,  and 
shone  with  lustrous  genius  and  grace.  He  was  called  and 
qualified  to  preach  the  everlasting  Gospel ;  and  he  did  his 
work  in  the  spirit  and  after  the  manner  of  John  the  Baptist. 
He,  also,  was  a  forerunner.  He  lived  in  advance  of  his 
age.  He  flamed  out  in  the  wilderness  of  sectarian  bigotry 
and  ecclesiastical  monopoly,  as  did  John  in  the  wilderness 
of  ancient  Judaism  and  idolatry.  He  heralded  a  better  day 
and  a  broader  light ;  and  he  stood  alone,  poor,  strange,  un- 
fed and  uncomforted  by  the  moneyed  populace ;  alone,  as 
one  who  must  cry  out  in  the  wilderness  of  error  and  wrong  ; 
alone,  and  content  with  penury  and  persecution,  feeling  the 
solemn  responsibility  of  proclaiming  the  one  great  Christ 
and  the  one  great  Bible  as  sufficient  for  the  fellowship  and 
efficiency  of  all  the  churches,  and  for  the  salvation  of  the 
world. 

The  firmament  has  innumerable  stars ;  but  all  are  com- 
passed as  a  galaxy  in  heaven's  blue  dome,  and  swing  as  the 


20  Memory's    Tribute. 

high  chandelier  of  the  night.  So  has  the  Church  its  every 
order  and  range  of  lights,  from  the  tiny  taper  of  eventide, 
that  gleams  as  a  firefly  and  is  gone,  to  the  "seven-branched 
candlestick  of  gold  in  the  temple  ;  "  but  as  starlight  blends 
in  the  heavens,  dimly  outlining  the  highways,  buildings, 
rivers  and  hills  of  the  landscape,  so  saintlight  blends  in  the 
churches,  sketching  spiritual  grandeurs  and  beauties  but 
feebly  ;  for  all  theologies  and  all  methodisms  must  be  lighted 
up  until  they  disappear,  as  stars  above  and  shadows  below 
all  scatter  in  the  morning  !  .We  may  rejoice  in  all  these 
burning  and  shining  lights  that  illuminate  the  Church 
below ;  for  we  know,  that,  as  one  by  one  they  vanish  from 
our  sight,  they  no  more  cease  to  be  than  the  stars  whose 
light  is  lost  in  the  fuller  effulgence  of  the  sun.  This  burn- 
ing and  shining  light,  in  whose  beams  we  all  for  a  season  re- 
joiced, has  passed  on  and  afar  in  its  high  orbit,  a  celestial 
itinerant,  to  shine  forever  in  glorious  luster  in  a  heavenly 
place  in  Christ  Jesus ! 

"  Ye  were  willing  for  a  season  to  rejoice  in  his  light." 
How  significant  these  words !  For  a  time,  when  Thomas 
H.  Stockton  was  vigorous  and  popular  as  an  orator  —  when 
he  stood  without  a  rival  in  the  American  pulpit — when  his 
voice  was  clear  and  his  form  erect — the  multitudes  crowded 
to  hear  the  master  of  rhetoric  and  elocution.  He  moved 
massive  congregations  as  the  wind  moves  the  trees  of  the 
forest,  or  the  euroclydon  the  billows  of  the  sea.  His  teach- 
ings were  accepted  by  all  denominations  as  orthodox,  timc> 


Memory's   Tribute.  21 

ly,  and  practical.  But,  when  it  came  to  the  test  of  letting 
go  the  sect  and  taking  hold  of  Christ  in  evangelism ;  clos- 
ing the  creed  and  opening  the  Bible ;  communing  at  the 
table  and  commingling  before  and  after,  as  one  family  of  the 
Lord — then  professors  of  religion  began  to  frown  out  of  the 
rejoicing  light,  and  lapse  back  into  cloister  clans  and  classes, 
as  tkis  'ISTS,  that  'ITES,  and  the  other  'ARIANS;  and  to  for- 
get the  glowing  words  of  him  who  heralded  the  unifold 
brotherhood  of  men  in  Jesus,  the  one  Christ  of  God. 
But,  as  Dr.  Krauth  generously  remarked  at  the  coffin  side 
of  the  silent  Stockton  :  "  He  was  a  sower ;  not  a  reaper." 
His  interpretations  of  Scriptural  society  and  Christian  agen- 
cy are  beginning  to  find  utterance  in  thousands  of  pulpits ; 
and  abroad,  among  all  people,  they  meet  amen  responses. 
He  who  sowed  in  tears,  in  this  world,  has  already  begun  to 
reap  in  joy  in  the  harvest  fields  of  eternity.  The  different 
denominations  are  nearer  together,  and  i^warmer  sympathy, 
to-day,  than  if  Stockton  had  never  lived.  His  work  is 
broader,  deeper,  and  more  enduring  than  if  he  had  achieved 
mere  local  success  in  crystalizing  a  single  congregation 
or  denomination  into  the  brightest  form.  He  has  excited  the 
Christian  world  to  unity  of  effort  and  to  liberality  of  love. 
It  was  my  intention,  in  this  discourse,  to  speak  of 
Thomas  H.  Stockton  as  a  citizen,  than  whom  a  more  union- 
loving,  brother-helping  patriot  never  breathed  or  voted  ;  as 
a  reformer,  whose  mind  and  heart  were  always  enlisted  in 
the  freedom,  culture,  and  happiness  of  all  mankind  ;  as  a 


22  Memory's   Tribute. 

philosopher,  who  entered  and  explored  fields  of  scien- 
fitic  thought  where  only  mental  giants  dared  to  venture ;  as 
a  theologian,  whose  key  to  spiritual  mysteries  was  his 
all-adjusting  Bible  ;  as  a  poet,  the  rhythm  of  whose  language 
was  but  an  echo  of  the  eternal  anthem  that  chanted  through 
the  chambers  of  his  soul ;  as  a  father,  the  tenderness 
of  whose  love  and  the  wisdom  of  whose  counsels  are 
best  expressed  in  the  filial  and  affectionate  lives  of  his  chil- 
dren. But  time  permits  me,  now,  only  to  speak  of  him  as 
a  preacher ;  and  to  relate  the  manner  of  the  preacher's 
death. 

Some  of  you  have  heard  him,  occasionally,  in  this  pulpit,* 
as  I  have  often  in  another.  Your  conception  of  him  is  al- 
ready beyond  the  range  of  my  description. 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  distinguished  by  originality.  He 
was  true  to  his  own  individualism  and  to  his  subject.  He 
had  an  intellect  that  saw  the  deep  things  of  the  Word,  and 
an  imagination  to  picture  them  as  they  appeared.  His 
emotional  nature  gave  musical  cadence,  and  his  honest  im- 
pulses gave  thrilling  emphasis  to  all  his  words.  The  grand 
old  things  of  the  Gospel  burst  from  his  lips  in  new  forms 
and  phases,  individualized  and  adapted  to  the  heart-wants 
of  the  people.  His  eye,  his  hand,  his  whole  body  were 
made  to  preach,  in  accord  with  his  heavenly  thought  and 
matchless  voice,  the  Gospel  of  redeeming  grace. 

*  The  last  time  he  preached  in  Pittsburgh  was  during  the  summer  of 
1863,  and  his  theme  The  Bible. 


Memory's    Tribute.  23 

He  was  a  Scriptural  preacher.  Not  that  he  quoted 
largely  the  phraseology  of  Scripture,  or  cited  passages  by 
announcing  chapter  and  verse.  He  was  neither  a  letterist 
nor  a  literalist.  His  winged  soul  would  make  its  own  cycles. 
He  stripped  his  text  of  all  that  was  local,  traditional,  or 
circumstantial,  and  eliminated  the  inspired  .idea;  and  he 
forced  that  divine  point,  single,  glittering  and  sharp,  into 
the  consciences  of  the  people.  He  cared  but  little  for  the 
preferences  of  the  schools  or  doctors ;  and  men  who  heard 
him  would  not  soon  be  found  quibbling  about  doctrinal  dis- 
tinctions or  theological  abstractions,  but  wondering,  rather, 
at  the  glorious  things  which  heaven  reveals  to  earth.  How 
strange  that "  his  very  Scripturalness  should  have  given  rise 
to  the  only  suspicions  that  ever  ventured  to  breathe  of  his 
heresy  !"  But  Scribes  and  Pharisees  shrugged  their  phylacte- 
ried  shoulders  at  the  Lord  of  Glory !  "As  nature  is  to  art, 
so  is  the  Bible  to  human  systems — a  thousand  times  greater, 
grander  and  more  divine."  Stockton's  sermons  were  not 
the  verbal  exegesis  of  creed  and  college;  but  a  carving 
and  fitting  of  human  hearts  to  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus 
Christ.  He  brought  the  Bible,  wide  open,  to  the  people's 
gaze,  and  pointed  out  there  the  words  of  Eternal  Life.  He 
would  not  be  trammeled  by  theological  or  ecclesiastical  sys- 
tems of  saving  men.  The  truth  he  presented  was  unalloy- 
ed, and  so  keenly  felt  to  be  true  as  not  to  be  measured 
afterward  by  a  human  standard.  A  man  receiving  it  would 
as  soon  have  thought  of  fixing  a  gas-meter  to  the  sun,  or  of 


24  Memory's   Tribute. 

plaiting  a  candle-wick  for  the  evening  star,  as  of  sectariani:&- 
ing  the  utterance  of  such  a  minister.  It  was  fixed  on  the 
conscience  where  the  Holy  Spirit  intended  ;  and  the  won- 
der was  that  it  had  been  so  long  obscured  and  neglected. 

He  was  a  dignified  preacher.  His  tall,  spare  form, 
always  neatly  appareled  ;  his  large,  lustrous  blue  eye ;  his 
silken,  snowy  hair ;  his  thin,  pale  face ;  his  high,  expansive 
forehead,  smooth  as  and  almost  as  white  as  Parian  marble ; 
his  long  arm,  and  slender  hand  and  fingers — all  so  accorded 
with  the  unearthly  grandeur  of  his  thoughts  as  to  hold  an 
audience  in  rapt  solemnity  and  awe.  Once  seeing  him  in 
the  pulpit,  any  minister  must  ever  after  consider  it  the 
most  dignified  place  for  human  footstep  under  the  sun,  and 
enter  there  with  reverence  and  humility.  This  remarkable 
man  could  thrill  a  congregation  and  command  serious  atten- 
tion by  a  single  leisurely  turning  of  his  eye  across  the  room. 
He  never  seemed  in  haste,  he  was  never  confused,  he  never 
wearied  the  people.  There  never  was  any  frivolous  conversa- 
tion in  aisle  or  vestibule  by  those  passing  out  from  beneath 
his  benediction. 

He  was  an  eloquent  preacher.  This  word,  more  than 
any  other,  has  been  associated  with  Stockton's  name. 
Henry  Clay,  himself  a  prince  of  orators,  pronounced  him 
the  most  eloquent  man  in  America.  President  Lincoln  said 
he  had  never  heard  such  an  utterance  from  mortal  lips  as 
Stockton's  prayer  at  the  dedication  of  the  soldiers'  cemetery 
at  Gettysburg;  and  to  the  influence  of  that  prayer  he  at- 


Memory's    Tribute.  25 

tributed  a  deep  awakening  in  his  own  breast.  Not  only  his 
language,  but  his  whole  life,  even  his  silence,  was  eloquent. 
There  was  eloquence  in  his  movements,  in  his  conversation, 
in  his  looks.  His  smile  was  eloquent ;  his  tears  were  elo- 
quent ;  his  very  infirmity  of  body  was  eloquent.  But  when 
he  was  excited,  illuminated,  when  his  eyes  flashed,  and  his 
cheeks  glowed,  and  his  tongue  was  on  fire,  oh  !  what  enrap- 
turing, irresistible  appeals  surged  against  the  hearts  of  the 
listening  people  then  !  He  prepared  his  sermons  thorough- 
ly, and  studied  their  phraseology  well ;  but  his  great  thoughts 
always  found  ready  expression,  and  his  sublimest  strains  are 
believed  to  have  been  entirely  extemporaneous.  "  His  was 
the  eloquence  of  soul,  not  of  syntax ;  and  hence  it  was  in 
his  glistening  eye,  in  his  quivering  lip,  and  in  those  out- 
stretched arms,  which  sometimes  appeared,  when  the  affla- 
tus was  upon  him,  as  the  pinions  of  an  angel  bearing  him 
away  into  mystic  scenes  which  thought  had  spread  out  to 
his  vision."  His  voice  and  gesticulation,  however  intense, 
were  never  extravagant  or  affected.  All  this  marvelous  in- 
fluence was,  to  him,  easy,  graceful,  and  natural.  And, 
with  all  his  conscious  power,  he  was  humble  as  a  little 
child.  Indeed,  his  meekness  and  modesty  were  thus  made 
to  be  the  most  eloquent  forces  in  his  character.  He  lost 
himself  in  the  infinite  Christ  whom  he  preached. 

Best  of  all,  he  was  an  effectiial  preacher.  His  words 
were  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord.  A  preacher  may  be  original, 
but  cold;  Scriptural,  but  callous;  dignified,  but  dull;  elo- 


26  Memory's   Tribute. 

quent,  but  effeminate.  Stockton  had  these  positive  traits 
without  the  negative  ;  and,  beyond  all,  he  was  so  possessed 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  when  he  preached  that  every  gift  was 
sanctified,  intensified,  and  every  utterance  blest.  He 
preached  "  Christ  and  the  power  of  his  resurrection  "  in 
all  places  and  at  all  times,  and  the  truth  reached  the  minds 
and  hearts  of  all  classes  of  men.  By  his  instrumentality, 
hundreds  and  thousands  were  converted,  and  are  now  in 
heaven  ;  while  many  more  still  linger,  faithful  and  true,  in 
the  various  church-folds  on  earth,  deeply  imbued  with  the 
liberal  spirit  of  the  preacher  by  whom  they  were  pointed 
to  Christ,  and  by  whose  agency,  owned  of  the  Most  High, 
they  were  freed  from  their  sins.  Of  all  seals  to  the  work 
of  the  ministry,  this  is  the  most  divine,  the  brightest,  the 
best :  it  accomplished  the  salvation  of  souls,  and  set  the 
saved  people  to  work  for  their  fellow  immortals  around 
them.  Truly,  as  a  preacher,  Thomas  H.  Stockton  was  "  a 
burning  and  a  shining  light." 

Now,  how  did  he  die  ? 

Just  as  he  had  lived — in  the  Lord  ;  and  forever  blessed 
is  he  !  The  last  record  but  one,  by  his  own  hand,  in  his 
journal  (which  he  had  kept  for  thirty  years)  is  this :  "  All 
I  can  say  just  now  is,  that,  if  I  die,  I  wish  to  die  as  a 
Christian  :  nothing  more,  nothing  less  —  a  Christian,  an 
humble  disciple  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ ;  to 
be  acknowledged  by  him,  I  trust,  through  grace  (whether 
by  men  or  not),  as  the  brother,  however  unworthy,  of 


Memory's    Tribute.  27 

every  .other  Christian  on  earth  or  in  heaven.  As  such,  I 
hope  to  be  a  joint-heir  with  Him,  and  so  with  them,  in  at- 
tainment and  enjoyment  of  the  absolute  and  immortal  per- 
fections, the  infinite  felicities  of  eternal  life.  I  repeat  my 
conviction  that  all  that  God  is  to  man,  He  is  in  Christ,  and 
all  that  man  is  to  God,  he  is  in  Christ.  So  that  '  Christ 
is  all  and  in  all ' — all  of  God  to  all  His  people." 

This  that  follows  is  his  own  last  writing  :  "  So  still  I 
wait.  It  seems  nothing  more  can  be  done  than  they  are 
doing Once  more,  therefore,  I  here  resign  my- 
self entirely  unto  thy  mercy,  in  Christ  Jesus,  O  thou  God 
of  my  salvation  !  For  myself,  my  children,  and  relatives, 
my  friends  generally,  as  for  the  Church  and  for  all  men,  I 
have  no  higher  hope,  no  other  prayer,  than  that  Thy  will 
be  done,  O  Lord  !  forever.  Amen." 

He  had  looked  toward  August  loth,  the  anniversary  of 
his  mother's  death,  and  again  to  September  i6th,  the  anni- 
versary of  his  wife's  death,  with  special  interest,  thinking, 
perhaps,  the  Lord  would  permit  him  to  die  on  one  or  the 
other  of  these  days,  and  so  to  cause  a  kind  of  family  sur- 
prise re-union  in  heaven.  As  the  latter  day  was  passing 
away,  he  had  his  son  write  for  him  at  the  close  of  the  page 
which  he  had  previously  dictated,  after  referring  to  his  desire 
as  stated  :  "  But  it  is  all  right.  I  gratefully  and  quietly 
submit.  All  is  right." 

One  day,  when  raised  up  in  bed  from  a  severe  struggle, 
from  which,  for  a  time,  it  was  doubtful  whether  he  could 


28  Memory's    Tribute. 

recover,  he  said,  in  the  midst  of  it :  "  This  is  the  way  it 
will  come,  you  see.  If  it  should  come  now,  or  in  any  of 
these  struggles,  the  very  first  thing  you  do  will  be  to  thank 
God  that  it  is  over  so  easy.  By  all  means,  instead  of  griev- 
ing, be  thankful Don  't  grieve  or  be  worried,  nor 

wish  the  doctor  had  been  here.      It 's  all  right  as  it  is." 

At  another  time,  he  awoke  suddenly  from  a  sleep  which 
was  so  quiet  as  to  cause  his  watching  children  to  entertain 
fears  that  he  might  never  awake  in  this  world,  and  said,  so 
sweetly : 

"  And  are  we  yet  alive, 

And  see  each  other's  face  ? 

Glory  and  praise  to  Jesus  give 

For  His  redeeming  grace." 

He  afterward  quoted  a  score  or  more  of  hymns  and 
poems.  Among  them,  the  following,  which  he  pronounced 
as  one  of  the  most  handsomely  turned  sentences  he  had 
ever  met : 

"  Time  will  subdue. 

What  will  not  time  subdue  f" 
Again  : 

"  In  age  and  feebleness  extreme, 
Who  shall  a  helpless  worm  redeem  T 
'Tis  only  Jesus  by  his  blood 
Can  raise  a  sinking  eonl  to  God  1 

"  Jesus,  my  only  hope  Thou  art, 
Strength  of  my  failing  flesh  and  heart. 
Oh  I  could  I  catch  a  smile  from  thee. 
And  drop  into  eternity  !" 


Meinory's    Tribute.  29 

A  few  days  later,  he  said  :  "  There  are  three  passages 
of  Scripture  that  are  of  particular  interest,  as  expressing  at 
different  times  my  condition.  The  first  is  this  : 

"  '  What  time  I  am  afraid,  I  will  trust  in  Thee.' 

"  Then  I  got  on  so  I  could  say  : 

"  '  /  will  trust  in  the  Lord  and  not  be  afraid.' 

"  And  then  I  got  on  further,  until  I  can  now  say  : 

" '  TRUST  IN  THE  LORD  FOREVER,  FOR  IN  THE  LORD 
JEHOVAH  is  EVERLASTING  STRENGTH.'  " 

Another  time  :  "  I  tell  you,  my  son,  that  I  am  very 
near  the  end.  I  must  have  the  doctor's  candid  opinion, 
to-night ;  and  if  he  says  it  is  so,  I  will  say  :  '  Thank  the 
Lord  !'  '  The  sting  of  death  is  sin  ;  the  strength  of  sin  is 
the  law.  But  thanks  be  unto  God  who  giveth  us  the  vic- 
tory through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  !J  There  is  no  sting  in 
death  to  me.  That  is  all  taken  away,  and  now  the  victory 
is  mine  !" 

Still  later,  these  are  his  words :  "  O  my  !  How  I  desire, 
and  how  my  desires  do  increase,  to  know  things  as  they 
are ;  to  be  at  the  center  of  all  intelligence,  and  understand 
all  the  truths  in  nature,  providence,  and  grace ;  to  see  my 
Saviour  as  he  is  !" 

"  Oh  I  if  my  Lord  would  come  and  meet, 
My  soul  would  stretch  her  wings  in  haste, 
Fly  fearless  through  death's  iron  gate, 
Nor  feel  the  terrors  as  she  passed." 

Again,  to  his  skillful,  devoted,  and  truly  Christian  phy- 


30  Memory's    Tribute. 

sician,  Dr.  William  Stiles,  who  for  years  had  been  a  bosom 
friend,  he  said  :  "  I  am  approaching  the  moment  which  I 
have  always  considered  of  the  greatest  importance — extinc- 
tion, or  continuance  of  being. 

"  Philosophy  says — Extinction  ! 

"  Infidelity  says — Extinction  ' 

"  Sense  says — Extinction  ! 

"  Faith  says — Immortality  \ 

"  Religion  says — IMMORTALITY  ! 

"  Christianity  says— IMMORTALITY  ! 

"  One  thing  is  certain,  something  has  always  been : 
something  continues  to  exist.  If  the  individual  falls,  life 
still  continues  in  the  race.  Infidelity  can't  gainsay  this." 

Then,  again,  with  assurance  :  "  I  am  going  to  see  the 
grandest  thing  in  the  universe,  'The  light  of  the  knowledge 
of  the  glory  of  God,  shining  in  the  face  of  Christ  Jesus 
our  Lord  !'  " 

Among  his  last  utterances  was  this  passage  from  St.  Paul's 
second  letter  to  Timothy  :  "  I  am  now  ready  to  be  offered, 
and  the  time  of  my  departure  is  at  hand.  I  have  fought  a 
good  fight ;  I  have  finished  my  course ;  I  have  kept  the 
faith."  "  Yes,"  said  the  dying  man,  thoughtfully  and  slow, 
"  1  have  fought  the  fight,  but  not  perfectly;  /  have  run  my 
race,  but  not  well ;  /  have  kept  the  faith,  yes  " — brighter 
ing  up  and  smiling,  and  emphasizing  every  syllable — "  / 
have  kept  the  faith,  against  men  and  all  opposition.  Oh  ! 
/  have  kept  the  faith — that  is  the  banner ;  I  have  held 


Memory's    Tribute.  31 

fast  to  that,  and  now  I  trust  I  shall  receive  the  crown  of 
glory!" 

Peacefully,  on  the  evening  of  the  ninth  of  October, 
1868,  holding  the  hand  of  his  son,  and  with  three  of  his 
daughters  around  him,  he  fell  asleep, 

"  Asleep  in  Jesus,  blessed  sleep  1 
From  which  none  ever  wakes  to  weep  ; 
A  calm  and  undisturbed  repose, 
Unbroken  by  the  last  of  foes." 

A  touching  incident — one  which  I  never  shall  forget — 
was  that  at  his  funeral  service  in  the  Church  of  the  New 
Testament  :  After  the  great  company  had  slowly  passed  by 
his  remains,  to  take  a  last  fond  look  at  his  beloved  counte- 
nance, and  when  the  lid  of  the  coffin  was  about  to  be  ad- 
justed to  its  place,  a  crippled  Jew,  leaning  on  the  arm  of 
a  stalwart  colored  man,  came  forward,  with  tearful  eyes,  to 
gaze  once  more  upon  the  pale  face  of  the  Christian  minis- 
ter. Behold  how  they  loved  him  !  The  lingering  congre- 
gation were  deeply  affected  by  this  singular  but  significant 
circumstance.  The  departed  had  so  lived  and  preached  as 
to  win  the  esteem  of  all  sects  and  parties,  and  of  all  com- 
plexions of  men ;  and  these  two  humble  representatives  of 
outcast  races  from  church  and  state,  by  this  sorrowful  tri- 
bute, thrilled  new  gospel  to  the  hearts  of  many  who  wit- 
nessed the  scene. 

"  Let  party  names  no  more 

The  Christian  world  o'erspread ; 


32  Memory's    Tribute. 

Gentile  and  Jew,  and  bond  and  free, 
Are  one  in  Christ,  their  Head." 

The  frail  earthly  tabernacle  of  Thomas  H.  Stockton 
rests  beneath  the  falling  willow-leaves  in  Mount  Moriah. 
There  the  chill-damps  of  death  gather  over  his  brow. 
There  his  mortal  body  shall  dissolve  to  its  native  dust. 

But  that  great  spirit  has  soared  above  the  starry  skies  to 
the  invisible  heavens  of  glory — to  the  many-mansioned 
house  of  the  redeemed,  to  rejoice  in  the  immediate  pre- 
sence of  God  and  his  Christ  forever.  May  we  meet  him 
there,  at  last,  where  the  Eternal  Father  manifests  the  ful- 
ness of  his  love  in  realms  of  perfect  spiritual  life  ! 

"  Can  that  man  be  dead 
Whose  spiritual  influence  is  upon  his  kind  ? 
He  lives  in  glory  ;  and  his  speaking  dust 
Has  more  of  life  than  half  its  breathing  moulds." 

This  thrilling  theme  will  linger  in  our  hearts  and  on  our 
lips.  It  is  so  hard  to  turn  away  from  the  grave  and  leave 
him  there — to  go  back  to  our  homes  and  altars,  feeling  that 
his  form  has  passed  away,  and  that  his  voice  is  hushed  for- 
ever in  this  world  where  comforters  and  counsellors  are  few, 
and  where  so  many  hearts  are  weary.  But  his  own  ecstatic 
"  Midnight  Rapture  "  shall  be  our  psalm  of  consolation, 
until  the  heavenly  morning  dawn,  when  we  shall  hail  him 
in  the  light!  In  the  words  of  his  own  exultation  for 
another,  so  respond  our  souls  in  sacred  farewells  to  him  : 


Memory's   Tribute.  33 


"  Amen ! 

The  will  of  God  be  done  ! 
He  calls  the  beautiful  away, 
To  worship  at  the  throne. 
The  beautiful  in  soul, 
The  saintly  and  the  good, 
The  sinner  freed  from  sin's  control, 

Washed  in  redeeming  blood. 
God  calls  the  holy  one  away ; 
With  crown  of  light, 
And  vestments  bright, 
To  walk  amidst  the  bloom  of  everlasting  day. 

"Amen! 

The  dream  of  life  is  past  I 
Oh !  what  a  maze  of  mingling  hues, 
Far  backward,  melts  at  last ! 
And  what  a  roar  of  sounds—   • 
Gay  laugh  and  chilling  wail ; 
Like  thunder  on  the  sunset  bounds, 

Now,  like  a  dying  gale  : 
The  voices,  and  the  rainbow  hues, 
They  faint,  they  fade, 
The  flight  is  made  : 
To  thee,  O  mocking  earth !  no  more  the  spirit  sues. 

"  Amen  1 

An  onward  verge  of  light ! 
Landscape  uncursed  and  cloudless  skies ! 
Fair  groups  in  robes  of  white  1 
And  coming  voices  bland, 
Of  melody  and  bliss  ; 
The  pressure  of  an  angel's  hand, 

The  warmth  of  saintly  kiss  ; 
A  deathless  world  with  nightless  skies : 
Beauty  and  Youth, 
And  Love  and  Truth, 
O  blest  exchange,  for  all  that  lives,  of  all  that  dies  ! 


34  Memory's   Tribute. 

"  Amen ! 

The  vision  of  the  blest  I 
The  sweetness  of  the  Saviour's  voice ! 
The  happiness  of  rest  I 
The  majesty  divine, 
In  solar  pomp  serene  : 
From  whose  far  rays,  all  suns  that  shine 

Their  golden  glories  glean  ! 
O  loved  of  heaven  !  lift  up  thy  voice 
With  kindred  tongues, 
Unite  thy  songs, 
Or,  rapt  in  silent  praise,  in  God  alone  rejoice  1" 


REMARKS 

OF  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  COLLIER,  D.D., 

Supplementary  to  the  Memorial  Discourse. 


OUR  deceased  friend  and  brother,  in  his  lifetime,  wished 
to  be  known  and  called  only  by  the  name  his  parents  gave 
him.  Hence,  he  declined  the  honors  conferred  by  a  respect- 
able college,  and  seemed  to  be  afflicted  when  addressed  by 
titles  of  distinction.  He  loved,  however,  to  be  called 
Brother.  He  was  a  Brother  indeed  :  kind,  sympathetic, 
confiding,  and,  in  an  eminent  degree,  trustworthy.  In 
every  phase  in  which  we  view  his  fraternal  relations  to  his 
ministerial  and  lay  associates,  we  see  him  the  same  frank, 
upright  and  affectionate  Brother.  His  integrity  to  his  relig- 
ious principles,  and  his  fidelity  to  whatever  was  committed 
to  his  trust,  are  acknowledged  by  all  who  knew  him.  Who 
could  know  him  and  not  love  him  ? 

He  and  I  entered  the  ministry  about  the  same  time,  and 
became  members  of  the  Maryland  Conference  of  the 
Methodist  Protestant  Church.  Our  fields  of  pastoral  labor 
being  remote  from  each  other,  I  did  not  make  his  acquain- 
tance until  the  year  1831.  I  had  heard  of  his  fame  from 
the  sea-board,  while  I  was  preaching  along  the  eastern  range 
(35) 


36  Memory's    Tribute. 

of  the  Allegheny  Mountains,  and  desired  greatly  to  see  and 
hear  the  gifted  man.  At  length  I  was  gratified.  But 
judge  of  my  surprise,  when,  contrary  to  all  my  ideas  of 
his  personal  appearance,  there  stood  Stockton,  tall,  slender, 
the  mere  shadow  of  a  man,  with  scarcely  flesh  enough  to 
cover  his  wonderful  mind.  My  joy  and  admiration  in 
hearing  his  sweetly-flowing  eloquence,  and  the  gracious 
words  and  heavenly  doctrines  which  fell  from  his  lips,  were 
disturbed  by  the  thought,  that  like  Kirke  White,  Pollok, 
and  McCheyne,  he  would  find  a  premature  grave. 

Brother  Stockton  was  himself  impressed  with  the  convic- 
tion that  his  career  would  be  short.  To  use  one  of  his 
own  illustrations,  "  He  seemed  as  frail  as  the  flower  that 
trembles  on  the  hill-side." 

At  the  Maryland  Conference,  held  in  Georgetown,  D.  C., 
in  1832,  he  was  appointed  to  preach  the  opening  sermon  at 
its  next  Annual  Session.  After  the  action  of  appointment 
had  passed,  he  arose  and  responded  in  a  most  solemn  and 
affecting  manner,  saying,  that  it  would  afford  him  great 
pleasure  to  comply  with  the  request  of  the  Conference,  if 
he  should  be  living,  and  his  health  would  permit ;  "  but,' 
said  he,  "  I  am  now  so  feeble  that  I  can  scarcely  hope  tc 
live  so  long."  Then  taking  hold  of  the  lapel  of  his  coat, 
his  eyes  suffused  with  tears,  he  continued,  "  When  I  get  a 
new  coat,  I  feel  as  if  it  were  the  last  I  should  ever  need." 
— Stockton  wept.  Indeed  we  all  wept,  that  one  so  young, 
so  lovely,  so  promising,  should,  to  all  human  view,  be  so 


Memory's    Tribute.  37 

•soon  removed  from  that  little  struggling  Conference  band 
which  esteemed  him  so  much.  But  how  untimely  his  tears 
and  our  sorrow  !  He  lived  long  enough  to  outlive  all,  save 
four,  of  the  twenty-three  ministerial  members  of  that  Con- 
ference, and  most  if  not  all  of  the  lay  delegates  then  in 
attendance.  The  only  survivors,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  are 
the  Rev.  Augustus  Webster,  D.D.,  the  Rev.  Daniel  E. 
Reese,  and  myself, — all  then  young  men,  now  old,  and  fol- 
lowing our  beloved  companions  in  ministerial  toil,  with 
rapid  steps.  Not  long,  and  those  that  survive  us  will  say 
of  the  Maryland  Conference  of  1832,  "They  are  all 
gone." 

My  strongest  wishes  now,  are,  that  I  may  die  as  Stockton 
died  :  that  I  may. have  the  same  unruffled  confidence,  the 
same  unshaken  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  same  vic- 
tory over  death  ; — that  I  may  say,  as  we  have  to-day  heard 
of  him  as  saying  so  exultingly  in  the  last  hour  :  "  Thanks 
be  unto  God  who  giveth  us  the  VICTORY  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ !"  Amen. 


{The  following  lints  were  written  some  thirty  years  ago,  ly  AMKLIA 
WELBT,  and  are  generally  supposed  to  be  a  tribute  to  Thos.  H.  Stockton.} 

PULPIT   ELOQUENCE. 

THE  day  was  declining — the  breeze  in  its  glee 

Had  left  the  fair  blossoms  to  sing  on  the  sea, 

As  the  sun  in  its  gorgeousness,  radiant  and  still, 

Dropped  down  like  a  gem  from  the  brow  of  the  hill ; 

One  tremulous  star,  in  the  glory  of  June, 

Came  out  with  a  smile  and  sat  down  by  the  moon, 

As  she  graced  her  blue  throne  with  the  pride  of  a  queen, 

The  smiles  of  her  loveliness  gladdening  the  scene. 

The  scene  was  enchanting  !  in  distance  away 
Rolled  the  foam-crested  waves  of  the  Chesapeake  bay, 
While  bathed  in  the  moonlight,  the  village  was  seen, 
With  the  church  in  the  distance,  that  stood  on  the  green, 
The  soft-sloping  meadows  lay  brightly  unrolled 
With  their  mantles  of  verdure  and  blossoms  of  gold 
And  the  earth  in  her  beauty,  forgetting  to  grieve, 
Lay  asleep  in  her  bloom  on  the  bosom  of  eve. 

A  light-hearted  child,  I  had  wandered  away 
From  the  spot  where  my  footsteps  had  gamboled  all  day  ; 
And  free,  as  a  bird's,  was  the  song  of  my  soul, 
As  I  heard  the  wild  waters  exultingly  roll, 
(38) 


Memory's    Tribute.  39 

'While,  lightening  my  heart  as  I  sported  along 
With  bursts  of  low  laughter  and  snatches  of  song, 
I  struck  in  the  pathway  half-worn  o'er  the  sod 
By  the  feet  that  went  up  to  the  worship  of  God. 

As  I  traced  its  green  windings  a  murmur  of  prayer 

With  the  hymn  of  the  worshipers  rose  on  the  air ; 

And,  drawn  by  the  links  of  its  sweetness  along, 

I  stood  unobserved  in  the  midst  of  the  throng ; 

For  awhile  my  young  spirit  still  wandered  about 

With  the  birds,  and  the  winds,  that  were  singing  without, 

But  birds,  waves  and  zephyrs,  were  quickly  forgot 

In  one  angel-like  being  that  brightened  the  spot. 

In  stature  majestic,  apart  from  the  throng 

He  stood  in  his  beauty,  the  theme  of  my  song  ! 

His  cheek  pale  with  fervor — the  blue  orbs  above 

Lit  up  with  the  splendors  of  youth  and  of  love ; 

Yet  the  heart-glowing  raptures,  that  beamed  from  those  eyes, 

Seemed  saddened  by  sorrows,  and  chastened  by  sighs, 

As  if  the  young  heart  in  its  bloom  had  grown  cold 

With  its  loves  unrequited,  its  sorrows  untold. 

Such  language  as  his  I  may  never  recall ; 

But  his  theme  was  salvation — salvation  to  all ; 

And  the  souls  of  a  thousand  in  ecstasy  hung 

On  the  manna-like  sweetness  that  dropped  from  his  tongue  ; 


40  Memory's    Tribute. 

Not  alone  on  the  ear  his  wild  eloquence  stole, 
Enforced  by  each  gesture  it  sank  to  the  soul, 
Till  it  seemed  that  an  angel  had  brightened  the  sod 
And  brought  to  each  bosom  a  message  from  God. 

He  spoke  of  the  Saviour  :   What  pictures  he  drew  ! 
The  scene  of  His  sufferings  rose  clear  on  my  view — 
The  cross — the  rude  cross  where  He  suffered  and  died, 
The  gush  of  bright  crimson  that  flowed  from  His  side, 
The  cup  of  His  sorrows,  the  wormwood  and  gall, 
The  darkness  that  mantled  the  earth  as  a  pall, 
The  garland  of  thorns,  and  the  demon-like  crews, 
Who  knelt  as  they  scoffed  Him — "  Hail,  King  of  the  Jews !" 

He  spoke,  and  it  seemed  that  his  statue-like  form 

Expanded  and  glowed  as  his  spirit  grew  warm — 

His  tone  so  impassioned,  so  melting  his  air, 

As,  touched  with  compassion,  he  ended  in  prayer  j 

His  hands  clasped  above  him,  his  blue  orbs  upthrown, 

Still  pleading  for  sins  that  were  never  his  own, 

While  that  mouth,  where  such  sweetness  ineffable  clung, 

Still  spoke,  though  expression  had  died  on  his  tongue. 

O  God  !  what  emotions  the  preacher  awoke  ! 

A  mortal  he  seemed — yet  a  deity  spoke ; 

A  rnan — yet  so  far  from  humanity  riven  ! 

On  earth — yet  so  closely  connected  with  heaven  ! 


Memory's    Tribute.  41 

How  oft  in  my  fancy  I  've  pictured  him  there, 
As  he  stood  in  that  triumph  of  passion  and  prayer, 
With  his  eyes  closed  in  rapture — their  transient  eclipse 
Made  bright  by  the  smiles  that  illumined  his  lips. 

There  's  a  charm  in  delivery,  a  magical  art, 
That  thrills,  like  a  kiss,  from  the  lip  to  the  heart ; 
'Tis  the  glance,  the  expression,  the  well-chosen  word, 
"*  By  whose  magic  the  depths  of  the  spirit  are  stirred, 
The  smile,  the  mute  gesture,  the  soul-startling  pause, 
The  eye's  sweet  expression,  that  melts  while  it  awes, — 
The  lip's  soft  persuasion — its  musical  tone — 
Oh  such  was  the  charm  of  that  eloquent  one  ! 

The  time  is  long  past,  yet  how  clearly  defined 
That  bay,  church  and  village,  float  up  on  my  mind  ! 
I  see  amid  azure  the  moon  in  her  pride, 
With  the  sweet  little  trembler,  that  sat  by  her  side; 
I  hear  the  blue  waves,  as  she  wanders  along, 
Leap  up  in  their  gladness  and  sing  her  a  song  ; 
And  I  tread  in  the  pathway  half-worn  o'er  the  sod 
By  the  feet  that  went  up  to  the  worship  of  God. 

The  time  is  long  past,  yet  what  visions  I  see  ! 

The  past,  the  dim  past,  is  the  present  to  me; 

I  am  standing  once  more  'mid  that  heart-stricken  throng, 

A  vision  floats  up — 'tis  the  theme  of  my  song  : 


42  Memory's    Tribute. 

All  glorious  and  bright  as  a  spirit  of  air, 

The  light  like  a  halo  encircling  his  hair — 

As  I  catch  the  same  accents  of  sweetness  and  love, 

He  whispers  of  Jesus,  and  points  us  above. 

How  sweet  to  my  heart  is  the  picture  I  Ve  traced  ! 
Its  chain  of  bright  fancies  seemed  almost  effaced, 
Till  memory,  the  fond  one,  that  sits  in  the  soul, 
Took  up  the  frail  links,  and  connected  the  whole  ; 
As  the  dew  to  the  blossom,  the  bud  to  the  bee, 
As  the  scent  to  the  rose,  are  those  memories  to  me  ; 
Round  the  chords  of  my  heart  they  have  tremblingly  clung, 
And  the  echo  it  gives  is  the  song  I  have  sung. 


IN   MEMORIAM. 

LINES  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THOS.  H.  STOCKTON. 

BY   WILLIAM  RINEHABT. 

WHO  that  has  heard  thee,  from  the  sacred  stand, 
Proclaim  the  everlasting  truth  of  God 
With  eloquence  sublime,  and  has  not  felt 
His  inmost  soul  to  its  foundation  stirred, 
And  all  his  thoughts  directed  heavenward  ! 
How  often  in  the  sanctuary,  beneath 
Its  heavenly  droppings,  have  we  sat, 
List'ning  to  thy  teachings,  thou  holy 
Man  of  God  I     ******* 
How  silent  now  the  tongue  that  oft  proclaimed 
God's  love  and  mercy  unto  all  mankind, 
Thrilling  the  hearts  of  multitudes  that  throng'd 
And  press'd  to  hear  thee  ! 

How  still  the  heart 

That  once  beat  high  with  holy  rapture,  as 
Thou  stoodst  between  the  living  and  the  dead, 
Pleading  for  sinners  at  the  mercy  seat, 
In  melting  tones  of  love  ! 

How  dull  and  glazed 

In  death,  those  lustrous  eyes,  erewhile  that  beam'd 
With  love  almost  divine,  to  every  soul 

Of  wretched  man  ! 
(43) 


44  Memory's    Tribute. 

Ah  who  that  ever  saw  thee 
Can  forget  thy  venerable  form, 
Thy  countenance  lit  up  with  heavenly  fires, 
Thy  hoary  locks,  whkened  with  the  frosts 
Of  premature  decay  I     *     *     *     * 
The  grave  can  only  hold  thy  fragile  form, 
Thy  spirit,  disenthrall'd,  has  left  in  glory 
The  dark  and  gloomy  confines  of  the  tomb, 
Soaring  away,  far,  far  from  earth's  turmoils 
And  cares,  to  realms  of  everlasting  joy  ! 
Thy  peaceful  soul,  triumphant,  now  has  found 
In  heaven,  that  "  Rock  of  Ages  cleft  for  thee  !' 
We  '11  never  see  thee  more  this  side  eternity, 
Nor  hear  the  music  of  thy  voice  again, 
Thrilling  our  souls  with  joy  unspeakable  ! 
Oh,  what  a  victory  has  death  achieved  ! 
How  mighty  is  the  fallen  !     *     *     * 
Thy  race  is  run  !   the  victor's  crown  is  thine  ! 
Thanks  be  to  God  Who  gave  thee  victory, 
Through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  ! 
We  '11  strive  to  follow  thee,  thou  faithful  one  ! 
We  long,  with  joyful  hearts,  to  see  the  stars, 
Bright  jewels  in  the  crown  of  thy  jejoicing  ! 

PITTSBURGH,  Nov.  14,  1868. 


THOMAS  H.  STOCKTON'S  PRAYER 

AT   THB 

DEDICATION  OF  THE  NATIONAL  CEMETERY  AT  GETTYSBURG, 

Thursday,  November  19th,  1863. 

O  GOD  our  Father,  for  the  sake  of  Thy  Son  our  Saviour, 
inspire  us  with  Thy  Spirit,  and  sanctify  us  to  the  right  ful- 
fillment of  the  duties  of  this  occasion. 

We  come  to  dedicate  this  new  historic  center  as  a 
National  Cemetery.  If  all  departments  of  the  one  Gov- 
ernment which  Thou  hast  ordained  over  our  Union,  and 
of  the  many  Governments  which  Thou  hast  subordinated 
to  our  Union,  be  here  represented  ;  if  all  classes,  relations, 
and  interests  of  our  blended  brotherhood  of  people  stand 
severally  and  thoroughly  apparent  in  Thy  presence  ;  we 
trust  that  it  is  because  Thou  hast  called  us,  that  Thy  bless- 
ing awaits  us,  and  that  Thy  designs  may  be  embodied  in 
practical  results  of  incalculable  and  imperishable  good. 

And  so,  with  Thy  holy  Apostle,  and  with  the  Church 
of  all  lands  and  ages,  we  unite  in  the  ascription  : — 
"  Blessed  be  God,  even  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  the  Father  of  mercies,  and  the  God  of  all  comfort, 
who  comforteth  us  in  all  our  tribulation,  that  we  may  be 
able  to  comfort  them  which  are  in  any  trouble,  by  the  com- 
fort wherewith  we  ourselves  are  comforted  of  God." 

In  emulation  of  all  angels,  in  fellowship  with  all  saints, 
(45) 


46  Memory's    Tribute. 

and  in  sympathy  with  all  sufferers ;  in  remembrance  of 
Thy  works,  in  reverence  of  Thy  ways,  and  in  accordance 
with  Thy  word  ;  we  laud  and  magnify  Thine  infinite  per- 
fections, Thy  creative  glory,  Thy  redeeming  grace,  Thy 
providential  goodness,  and  the  progressively  richer  and 
fairer  developments  of  Thy  supreme,  universal,  and  ever- 
lasting administration. 

In  behalf  of  all  humanity,  whose  ideal  is  divine,  whose 
first  memory  is  Thine  image  lost,  and  whose  last  hope  is 
Thine  image  restored  ;  and  especially  of  our  own  nation, 
whose  history  has  been  so  favored,  whose  position  is  so 
peerless,  whose  mission  is  so  sublime,  and  whose  future  is  so 
attractive  ;  we  thank  Thee  for  the  unspeakable  patience  of 
Thy  compassion  and  the  exceeding  greatness  of  Thy  lov- 
ing kindness.  In  contemplation  of  Eden,  Calvary,  and 
Heaven  ;  of  Christ  in  the  Garden,  on  the  Cross,  and  on 
the  Throne  ;  nay,  more,  of  Christ  as  coming  again  in  all- 
subduing  power  and  glory ;  we  gratefully  prolong  our  hom- 
age. By  this  Altar  of  Sacrifice,  on  this  Field  of  Deliver- 
ance, on  this  Mount  of  Salvation,  within  the  fiery  and 
bloody  lines  of  these  "  munitions  of  rocks,"  looking  back 
to  the  dark  days  of  fear  and  trembling,  and  to  the  rapture 
of  relief  that  came  after  ;  we  multiply  our  thanksgivings, 
and  confess  our  obligations  to  renew  and  perfect  our  per- 
sonal and  social  consecration  to  Thy  service  and  glory. 

Oh,  had  it  not  been  for  God  !  For  lo  !  our  enemies — 
they  came  unresisted,  multitudinous,  mighty,  Hushed  with 


Memory's    Tribute.  47 

.  victory,  and  sure  of  success.  They  exulted  on  our  moun- 
tains, they  reveled  in  our  valleys ;  they  feasted,  they  rested  ; 
they  slept,  they  awaked  ;  they  grew  stronger,  prouder,  bold- 
er every  day  ;  they  spread  abroad,  they  concentrated  here ; 
they  looked  beyond  this  horizon  to  the  stores  of  wealth,  to 
the  haunts  of  pleasure,  and  to  the  seats  of  power,  in  our 
Capital  and  chief  cities.  They  prepared  to  cast  the  chain 
of  Slavery  around  the  form  of  Freedom,  binding  life  and 
death  together  forever.  Their  premature  triumph  was  the 
mockery  of  God  and  man.  One  more  victory,  and  all 
was  theirs !  But,  behind  these  hills  was  heard  the  feebler 
march  of  a  smaller  but  still  pursuing  host.  Onward  they 
hurried,  day  and  night,  for  God  and  their  country.  Foot- 
sore, way-worn,  hungry,  thirsty,  faint — but  not  in  heart, 
they  came  to  dare  all,  to  bear  all,  and  to  do  all,  that  is  pos- 
sible to  heroes.  And  Thou  didst  sustain  them  !  At  first 
they  met  the  blast  on  the  plain,  and  ben,t  before  it,  like  the 
trees  in  a  storm.  But  then,  led  by  Thy  hand  to  these  hills, 
they  took  their  stand  upon  the  rocks  and  remained  as  firm 
and  immovable  as  they.  In  vain  were  they  assaulted.  All 
art,  all  violence,  all  desperation,  failed  to  dislodge  them. 
Baffled,  bruised,  broken,  their  enemies  recoiled,  retired,  and 
disappeared.  Glory  to  God,  for  this  rescue  !  But,  Oh, 
the  slain  !  In  the  freshness  and  fullness  of  their  young  and 
manly  life;  with  such  sweet  memories  of  father  and  mother, 
brother  and  sister,  wife  and  children,  maiden  and  friends ; 
they  died  for  us.  From  the  coasts  beneath  the  Eastern 


48  Memory's    Tribute. 

star,  from  the  shores  of  Northern  lakes  and  rivers,  from  the 
flowers  of  Western  prairies,  and  from  the  homes  of  the 
Midway,  and  the  Border,  they  came  here  to  die  for  us  and 
for  mankind.  Alas  !  how  little  we  can  do  for  them  !  We 
come  with  the  humility  of  prayer,  with  the  pathetic  elo- 
quence of  venerable  wisdom,  with  the  tender  beauty  of 
poetry,  with  the  plaintive  harmony  of  music,  with  the  hon- 
est tribute  of  our  Chief  Magistrate,  and  with  all  this  honor- 
able attendance  :  but  our  best  hope  is  in  Thy  blessing,  O 
Lord,  our  God  !  O  Father,  bless  us  !  Bless  the  bereaved, 
whether  present,  or  absent;  bless  our  sick  and  wounded 
soldiers  and  sailors ;  bless  all  our  rulers  and  people  ;  bless 
our  army  and  navy;  bless  the  efforts  for  the  suppression  of 
the  rebellion  ;  and  bless  all  the  associations  of  this  day, 
and  place,  and  scene,  forever.  As  the  trees  are  not  dead, 
though  their  foliage  is  gone,  so  our  heroes  are  not  dead, 
though  their  forms  have  fallen.  The  spirit  of  their  exam- 
ple is  here.  It  fills  the  air;  it  fills  our  hearts.  And,  long 
as  time  shall  last,  it  will  hover  in  these  skies,  and  rest  on 
this  landscape  ;  and  the  pilgrims  of  our  own  land,  and  from 
all  lands,  will  thrill  with  its  inspiration  and  increase  and 
confirm  their  devotion  to  liberty,  religion  and  God. 

Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  by  Thy  name. 
Thy  kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is 
in  heaven.  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread,  and  forgive 
us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors.  Lead  us  not  into 
temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  evil ;  for  Thine  is  the 
kingdom,  the  power,  and  the  glory,  for  ever.  Amen. 


Memory's    Tribute.  49 

[From  the  Methodist  Recorder.] 

A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  LATE  REV. 
T.  H.  STOCKTON. 


Professor  McCabe,  of  the  Ohio  Wesleyan  University,  has 
kindly  responded  to  a  request,  to  furnish  a  sketch  respecting 
the  address  of  Brother  Stockton,  at  the  Annual  Commence- 
ment of  that  Institution,  in  July,  1862.  He  was  then 
Chaplain  of  the  National  House  of  Representatives,  and 
met  his  engagement  at  Delaware,  almost  directly  upon  the 
adjournment  of  Congress.  Our  friend  gives  in  unmistaka- 
ble terms  his  impressions  of  the  deceased,  and  presents  us  a 
valuable  reminiscence,  for  which  we  are  thankful  to  him, 
and  which  we  take  pleasure  in  handing  to  the  Editor  for 
publication,  if  he  see  good.  A.  H.  B. 


OHIO  WESLEYAN  UNIVERSITY, 
Delaware,  O.,  Nov.  26,  1868. 

"  REV.  A.  H.  BASSETT — My  Dear  Sir  : — I  feel  that  you 
have  done  me  a  great  favor  in  asking  me  to  linger  in  the 
presence  of  that  great  and  good  man.  I  can  recall  no 
minister,  no  Christian,  that  more  deeply  or  more  usefully 
impresses  me.  He  seemed  to  me  to  be  in  truth  a  very 
4 


50  Memory's   Tribute. 

great  man,  and  an  orator  whose  eloquence  approached  the 
divine ;  but  I  saw  in  the  heights  and  depths  of  his  soul 
more  to  admire,  more  at  which  to  wonder.  Indeed,  I  was 
charmed  with  the  seraphic  purity  of  his  spirit.  Of  all  the 
Christians  I  ever  knew,  I  remember  none  that  seemed  to 
me  to  be  more  deeply  and  variously  experienced  in  the  re- 
ligion of  Jesus  Christ. 

"  Of  all  the  ministers  I  have  ever  met,  I  can  think  of  no 
one  who  impressed  me  as  more  divine,  or  more  unworldly. 
He  allowed  me  to  approach  him  very  intimately,  and  I 
looked  all  over  his  great,  deep,  clear,  pure  soul.  I  saw 
there  no  ambition,  resentment  or  jealousies,  no  limitations, 
desires  of  vain  glory,  or  murmurings  over  his  long  life  of 
pain.  Place — fame — authority — all  seemed  to  him  as  they 
must  appear  to  glorified  spirits.  If  such  things  came  un- 
sought in  the  order  of  Divine  Providence,  and  in  the  line 
of  imperative  duty,  he  willingly  used  them  solely  for  the 
glory  of  his  Master.  But  to  seek  such  things,  actuated  by 
selfishness,  was  to  him  an  impossibility.  It  was  refreshing 
to  meet  a  great  soul,  doing  the  work  and  suffering  the  woes 
divinely  appointed,  full  of  God,  full  of  joy,  and  full  of 
hope  of  that  immensity  of  immortality  so  soon  to  break 
upon  him.  To  Dr.  Stockton,  the  gates  of  the  Eternal 
City  seemed  ever  to  be  in.  full  view.  All,  therefore,  earth 
had  to  promise  him  seemed  to  him  to  be  but  chaff  which 
the  wind  might  blow  about  whithersoever  it  listeth.  He 
did  not  like  noise  and  eclat.  He  did  not  tread  the  stage 


Memory's  Tribute.  51 

of  life  with  a  clamorous  foot,  but  his  life  was  intensely  in 
earnest.  When  I  looked  upon  him,  I  was  filled  with  emo- 
tions of  ineffable  joy.  I  trust  that  when  he  ascended  like 
Elijah  (of  whom  he  always  reminded  me),  in  his  chariot  of 
fire,  that  his  hallowed  mantle  fell  upon  thousands  of  his 
brethren  in  the  ministry  of  the  glorious  Gospel  of  the  grace 
of  God. 

"You  refer  to  his  visit  to  Delaware,  Ohio.  Those  who 
were  permitted  to  hear  his  address  before  the  Zetagathean 
Society  of  the  Ohio  Wesleyan  University  in  the  year  1862, 
can  never  forget  it.  His  theme  was,  "  Materialism  versus 
Spiritualism."  He  advanced  at  once,  to  a  tremendous  as- 
sault upon  the  strongholds  of  Infidelity.  His  argument 
was  overwhelming.  He  delivered  it  sitting  in  his  chair, 
for  he  was  too  feeble  to  stand,  and  while  speaking,  he 
seemed  himself  a  living  illustration  of  the  truth  he  uttered. 
No  better  could  possibly  have  been  given.  When  he  first 
took  his  seat,  you  saw  only  his  frail  body,  his  pallid  counte- 
nance, his  thin,  white  hair,  his  bent  form,  and  your  sympa- 
thies were  fully  aroused  for  him,  and  your  fears  were  ex- 
cited lest  the  effort  would  prove  too  much  for  his  failing 
strength.  But  when  he  began  to  speak,  and  his  great  soul 
girded  itself  for  the  task  before  him,  then  he  looked  the 
conqueror.  Your  pity  was  changed  into  longings  to  be  like 
him.  Never  have  I  witnessed  a  greater  triumph  of  the 
spiritual  over  the  material. 

"Towards  the  close  of  his  address,  after  announcing  the 


52  Memory's  Tribute. 

grandest  propositions  which  unassisted  human  reason  had 
ever  demonstrated,  he  dwelt  for  a  moment  upon  the  axi- 
oms of  the  Cartesian  Philosophy,  such  as,  I  walk,  therefore 
1  am.  I  see,  therefore  I  am.  Then  lifting  his  eyes  heaven- 
ward, a  light  that  we  trembled  to  see,  beaming  from  them, 
he  uttered  that  glorious  axiom  of  Christian  Philosophy,  '/ 
think — therefore  I  am  a  spirit?  That,  therefore,  it  still 
seems  to  me,  was  the  most  eloquent  utterance  I  ever  heard 
from  human  lips.  It  was  more  than  a  mere  utterance,  it 
was  a  triumphant  shout.  It  was  the  hallelujah  of  a  par- 
doned, sanctified,  satisfied,  and  well-nigh  glorified  spirit. 
And  that  gaze  into  the  heavens  !  It  was  long  and'loving, 
like  that  of  the  Apostles  after  their  ascending  Lord  ;  only 
this  seemed  to  be  an  expectant  look  for  His  instant  coming. 
The  cry  was  suppressed  at  the  door  of  many  lips,  '  My  Fa- 
ther !  my  Father  !  the  chariots  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen 
thereof.' 

"  When  he  turned  his  countenance  upon  us  again,  the 
radiant  hues  of  immortal  youth  were  playing  upon  it,  and 
his  soul  seemed  to  be  uttering  its  farewell  to  the  frail  body 
it  was  so  soon  to  leave. 

"  '  If  I  have  ever  caused  thee  pain, 

The  throbbing  brow,  the  burning  brain  ; 

With  cares  and  vigils  made  thec  pale, 

Or  mocked  thee  when  thy  strength  did  fail, 

Forgive,  forgive,  thy  task  doth  cease, 

Friend,  lover,  let  us  part  in  peace. 

If  thou  didst  ever  check  my  force. 

Or  trifling  stay  my  upward  course, 


Memory's    Tribute.  53 

Or  lured  from  heaven  my  wavering  trust, 
Or  bowed  my  drooping  wing  to  dust, 
I  blame  thee  not,  thy  task  is  done. 
I  knew  thou  wert  the  weaker  one — 
The  vase  of  earth,  the  trembling  clod 
Constrained  to  hold  the  breath  of  God.' 

"  When  he  broke  the  silence,  he  addressed  the  discom- 
fitted  champion  of  Materialism,  whom  he  had  all  along 
imagined  before  him,  and  said,  piteously,  '  What  did  you 
expect  ?  Did  you  think  to  surprise  the  Great  Artificer 
somewhere  in  the  mighty  Laboratory  of  his  Universe,  with 
sunbeam  staff,  and  starry  crown,  and  garment  fringed  with 
fire,  pale  and  ghostly,  walking  amid  the  hosts  of  heaven 
like  a  shepherd  amid  his  flocks  ?' 

"  His  peroration  I  dare  not  attempt  to  give  from  mem- 
ory. Its  impression,  however,  will  endure  forever.  He 
conducted  a  soul  from  the  place  of  pardon,  on  through  all 
its  varied  experiences,  until  with  palm,  and  harp,  and  crown, 
it  stood  rejoicing  before  the  throne  of  God.  Then  for  a 
time  we  lingered  with  him  on  the  Mount ;  and  to  some 
the  visions  of  that  day  were  as  a  glory  set  before  them,  for 
which  they  endured  the  cross,  despised  the  shame,  and  are 
now  set  down  on  the  right  hand  of  God  ;  and  to-day  they 
join  with  him  in  singing  unto  Him  that  loved  us  and 
washed  us  from  our  sins  in  His  own  blood  :  and  hath 
made  us  kings  and  priests  unto  God.  Unto  Him  be  glory 
and  dominion  for  ever  and  ever. 

"L.    D.     McCABE." 


54  Memory's  Tribute. 

[From  the  Methodist  Home  Journal.} 

EULOGY. 

BY  THE  REV.  J.  WALKER  JACKSON. 

PASTOR  GREEN   STREET   M.   E.    CHURCH,   PHILADELPHIA. 

IN  the  felt  presence  of  death,  there  was  in  this  man  an 
intense  love  of  life,  a  wondrous  sympathy  with  its  forms 
and  manifestations  of 

;l  Forests  and  gardens  with  their  tribes  of  life  ; 
Of  hills  and  dales  ;  oceans  and  all  their  streams  ; 
Of  glowing  sun,  blue  heavens,  and  moon  and  stars  ; 
And  man  with  all  his  works,  towers,  towns  and  navies, 
His  music,  painting,  sculpture,  and  his  lore." 

Keenly  alive  through  the  delicacy  and  sensitiveness  of 
his  mental  conformation  to  the  charms  that  "  bloom  and 
breathe  around,"  and  yet  haunted  in  early  manhood  with 
"  dismal  forebodings  that  the  lovely  flowers  which  seem  so 
fragile"  shall  outlast  his  threatened  life. 

Clinging  to  life — even  though  he  knew  that  he  must  suf- 
fer and  sorrow  on,  every  step  upon  painful,  piercing  thorns 
of  sickness  and  attendant  griefs  !  Imagine  not  that  he 
shrank  from  death,  through  that  fear  subjecting  us  to  bond- 
age, from  which  Christ  delivers,  through  the  redemption 
in  His  blood  even  the  forgiveness  of  sins.  No  !  it  was  the 
bliss  of  living,  with  the  consciousness  of  a  capacity  and  a 
desire  to  use  his  life-powers  well,  with  vast  plans  of  useful- 
ness thronging  the  mind,  the  knowledge  that  perfection  of 


Memory's   Tribute.  55 

character  is  slow  of  attainment,  and  that  we  must  have 
time  to  attain  it.  What  !  shall  we  be  arrested  in  the 
middle  of  our  life's  plans  ?  Shall  time  grudge  us  to  finish 
what  we  have  begun  ?  The  thing  seems  out  of  all  reason, 
that  the  darkness  of  sudden  eclipse  should  anticipate  the 
natural  closing  of  life's  day,  that  ere  the  illusions  of  youth 
have  vanished,  and  our  hopes  grown  cold,  death  should  cut 
us  off  to  lie  in  cold  obstruction,  and  to  rot. 

He  had  a  man's  interest  in  earth's  conflicts,  although  he 
looked  as  unearthly  as  a  spirit  revisiting  the  pale  glimpses 
of  the  moon,  he  was  a  manly  man,  and  whatever  concerned 
manhood  concerned  him  ;  he  had  a  Christian  man's  inter- 
est in  the  world's  redemption  from  strife  and  wrong.  Carry- 
ing about  with  him,  during  all  the  years  of  his  life,  a  body 
of  death,  a  constant  reminder  that  this  was  not  his  abiding 
place,  he  had  an  undecaying,  undying  interest  in  all  that 
concerned  the  bosoms  and  business  of  men. 

Methinks  I  see  him  now,  as  I  have  seen  him,  rising  be- 
fore a  vast  throng  of  people.  Tall,  slender,  yet  majestic  ; 
graceful  in  every  motion,  with  a  dignity  and  gravity  that 
awed  us  into  solemn  silence,  as  his  large  blue  eyes  rolled  in  their 
orbits  seeming  to  visit  with  a  glance  each  and  every  auditor. 

Hark  !  that  voice  speaking  so  solemnly,  so  beautifully, 
with  such  correctness  of  elocution,  that  each  word  has  its 
proper  relative  volume  of  sound ;  with  its  strange  and 
hitherto  unheard  sweetness,  thrilling  your  every  nerve  with 
an  ecstasy  like  the  low  murmur  of  the  wind  in  pine  tree  tops. 


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